


Insensate (adj.); completely lacking sense or reason; also: foolish

by twentyfourblackbirds



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015), Sense8 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sense8 (TV) Fusion, Blood and Violence, Dubious Morality, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Masturbation, Mental Link, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Public Masturbation, Telepathic Bond, Telepathic Sex, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-05-03 16:57:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5299130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twentyfourblackbirds/pseuds/twentyfourblackbirds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was mad. Utterly, wholly, consummately mad. He had saved the world, but nevertheless, he could not save himself. He was being haunted — not by a ghost — but by hallucinations of Harry, probably born of his colossal guilt over his mentor's death. It was the only possible explanation, and as such Eggsy accepted it with perfect equanimity.</p><p>The only question left, then, as he stood silently in an imaginary hospital room next to a dead man, was what to do with this information.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Insensate (adj.); completely lacking sense or reason; also: foolish

**Author's Note:**

> As much as I love the series to death, this isn't a complete Sense8 crossover — it lacks a cluster of multiple individuals, and Eggsy and Harry are far from being born at the same second. It simply borrows the core concept of sharing all five senses amongst two bewildered individuals halfway across the globe from each other.
> 
> Please do note that this story contains fairly dark and questionable themes, including graphic sex, graphic violence and some torture.

The sun beat down mercilessly from the Kentucky skies above. He could feel the cool breeze in his hair, he could see the gentle blur of heat rising from nearby cars. He could taste the coppery tang of blood on his lips, he could smell the flesh and death emanating from the church behind him.

He heard the click of Valentine's gun.

 

———

 

Eggsy gave a shout of inarticulate denial, slamming down the lid of Harry's laptop. He tried desperately to ignore the lingering warmth on his skin, his body's insistent declaration that he'd gone blind in his right eye.

He staggered his way out of Harry's room. He had to do something. He had to tell Arthur.

 

———

 

He was dozing fretfully on the plane to Valentine's hideout, common sense wrestling with anxiety for a good night's sleep, when he caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye.

He jerked his head up, trying to make sense of his vision. Harry, stretched out on a hospital bed, multiple IVs and tubes attached to various veins. How could a hospital bed even fit here?

He suddenly realized, in the same way one might realize the floor was dropping away under you, that he wasn't on the plane. He was in a hospital room, sparse and depressing. A hushed weeping could be heard somewhere in the background.

Eggsy stared dumbly at the deathly still figure on the bed. He moved forward, a hand outstretched—

"Eggsy? What's wrong?"

Eggsy started violently. Across from him, Roxy was looking at him with trace concern.

"Nothing," he muttered hastily, dropping his hand. "I— I was just thinking about Harry. You know, when he was in a coma during my training."

Roxy squeezed his knee in silent understanding. Gratefully, Eggsy squeezed back.

 

———

 

His back was pressed against a cold metal doorway as two armies of men swept in from both sides like a pincer. Fighting down terror and desperation, Eggsy squeezed his eyes shut as he recited his last requests to Roxy.

When he opened them again, Harry was standing before him in a crumpled blue hospital gown.

Wild-eyed, Eggsy stared. He couldn't even blame flashbacks for this one. Perhaps it was an adrenaline-fuelled vision caused by near-death?

Harry was fighting to say something, his hands moving helplessly in gesticulation. Finally, Eggsy caught the barest hint of a voice.

"Implants," Harry whispered.

Eggsy continued gaping, dumbfounded, until Harry made another impatient gesture with his hands.

"Merlin," Eggsy said into his comms, "Remember those implants you said were of no use to us?"

 

———

 

He was mad. Utterly, wholly, consummately mad. He had saved the world, but nevertheless, he could not save himself. He was being haunted — not by a ghost — but by hallucinations of Harry, probably born of his colossal guilt over his mentor's death. It was the only possible explanation, and as such Eggsy accepted it with perfect equanimity.

The only question left, then, as he stood silently in an imaginary hospital room next to a dead man, was what to do with this information.

First, he decided, he'd be selfish. He'd use the Kingsmen to get Mum and Daisy away from bloody Dean.

Second, he'd be altruistic. He'd do his part to help clean up the world and the mess it was in as long as he could. For As long as — this — didn't interfere with his performance.

Third, he'd be practical. When the madness finally overtook his senses — and he had no doubts that it would — he would take the final steps to ensure he wasn't a danger to anyone around him.

Until then — Eggsy took a deep shuddering breath — he would spend his time here, reliving these hellishly real dreams.

He stared freely and unwaveringly into Harry's eyes. A man who has chosen his own damnation has little thought for social niceties.

Barely awake and unspeaking, Harry stared back, his expression unfathomable.

 

———

 

He was at the Kingsmen practice range when the next vision came. He sensed, rather than saw, the new presence next to him. He turned, and then he was in Kentucky.

Harry was three feet away from him, a coat thrown conspicuously over his hospital gown. He was swaying slightly on his feet, but seemed otherwise completely unsurprised to see Eggsy.

"The American health system," Harry declared, apropos of nothing, "is a disgrace."

This startled Eggsy into a laugh. He moved forward to offer a shoulder of support to Harry, which the latter accepted grudgingly. This was a good dream. Any dream where Harry was his usual pithy self and not lying helpless strapped to a bed was a good dream.

"I take it they had the audacity to ask you to pay for your bills," Eggsy said lightly. If Harry was going to pretend nothing was out of place, so was he.

"Audacity," Harry responded thoughtfully. "That is a most wonderful way of putting it. Eggsy," he continued in a bewildered tone, "I have no money. I have no clothes. And I have no food."

Eggsy sighed. It was a position he was familiar with.

"If I were in your shoes, Harry," he said, "I would steal them."

"Steal," Harry repeated, his bewilderment growing.

"It's what people do," Eggsy said steadily, "when they're out of options and have to survive."

"How?" asked Harry, looking down at his hands. "Do I mug an innocent passerby? Hold up a grocery store?"

Eggsy sighed again. "You see that house down the street?"

Harry saw it.

"It's the only one with no cars in the driveway, an' it has tall hedges. That's a good start."

Harry made his way as casually as he could towards the house. He pushed his way past the unlocked side gate and stood uncertainly in the manicured backyard.

"Shake hands with that doorknob," Eggsy instructed.

Harry obeyed. Fortuitously, the door yielded to his grasp.

"Clothes first," Eggsy whispered. Cautiously, Harry made his way up the staircase and into the most likely-looking master bedroom. As quietly as he could, he began pawing through various dresser drawers. Holding up a pair of pants, he hesitated.

"Could I get," Harry requested demurely, "a bit of privacy, if you would be so kind?"

Eggsy fought the urge to blush and avert his eyes. Since when were dreams ever concerned with decency? Instead, he leaned against a wall and met Harry's gaze.

"Why bother?" he challenged.

Harry was still for a moment, before murmuring, "I suppose it is a bit ridiculous, come to think of it." Unhurriedly, he shed his coat and peeled off the gown.

Eggsy's throat went dry. He still didn't look away.

When Harry was sufficiently decent, Eggsy made another gesture. "Take a change of clothes," he ordered. "And an extra pair of shoes."

"Shoes?"

"Shoes," Eggsy repeated firmly. "And now, food next."

He looked on as Harry crept back downstairs and ransacked the pantry. "Stick to prepackaged and non-perishables," was his only advice. "The sardines and tuna are a good bet."

Harry made a face. "I hate fish."

"Too bad," Eggsy said, completely unmoved.

At that moment, they both heard the unwelcome sound of tires crunching on gravel.

"Go," Eggsy urged. "Out the back door."

Harry looked at him desperately. "Maybe— I could stay to explain—"

" _No,_ Harry, they're not gonna swallow your story and let you walk away with their food and clothes. If you really feel bad you can pay 'em back later. Just _go!_ Get out of here now!"

Harry finally fled. Eggsy heaved a sigh of relief and then jolted violently as he felt a hand land on his shoulder.

His gun clattered to the ground. Mercifully, it didn't fire. Eggsy turned to see Merlin looking at him, worry lines creasing his eyes.

"Eggsy," he said. "You were shouting."

"Just talking to myself," Eggsy forced himself to say, kneeling to pick up his firearm. Neither man neglected to notice how his hand trembled as he did so.

 

———

 

Harry's subsequent visit was far more brief. Eggsy was covertly attending a conference in New York, trying to ferret out the party responsible for cutting rather fatal corners in Sweden's nuclear power plants.

"It's that one," Harry said suddenly, appearing next to Eggsy as he almost choked on his martini. "The fat one sitting next to the woman in red."

"How do you know?" Eggsy demanded, once he could breathe again.

"He's wearing a bulletproof vest," Harry said, unperturbed. His cheeks looked sallower, his stolen clothes hung more loosely around his frame. "And I don't like his face. I am a very good judge of faces."

"Really," Eggsy murmured, half-mockingly. "And what did you think of my face when you first saw me?"

"Your face," said Harry, strangely, turning towards him. "You—"

Infuriatingly, however, he chose that moment to disappear.

 

———

 

Eggsy was no fool. The next day, after his mission had been successfully carried out, he sat down on his hotel bed and breathed.

When he stood back up, he was at a bus stop. Harry was crouched sullenly in a corner.

"Harry," he said, his fear somehow transmuting into anger, "you smell like piss. What the hell are you doing?"

Harry cracked open an eye and glared, seemingly none too pleased to see him. "Fuck off."

"Harry," Eggsy repeated, reaching out to shake Harry by the shoulder.

Harry struck his arms away furiously. "Fuck off! Fuck you! What the hell is happening?" Harry was gasping, sounding broken and frustrated. "I'm not a Kingsman anymore! Why must I keep seeing — remembering — hallucinating — _you?"_

"You're not hallucinating _me_ ," Eggsy said, mortally insulted. " _I'm_ hallucinating _you_."

Both men stared at each other, at a impasse.

Finally, Eggsy made an frustrated motion. "Do you have any money?" he demanded.

"What?"

"Mo-ney," Eggsy repeatedly slowly. "Preferably coins."

Harry shook his pockets with a jingling noise. "People keep giving them to me," he said sulkily. "They think I'm homeless."

"Your poor injured ego," Eggsy said unfeelingly. "Go to that payphone over there."

Harry reluctantly shuffled over, and with deliberate and exasperating slowness, pushed the coins into the slot.

"Well?" he asked resentfully, as the dial tone assaulted their ears.

Eggsy punched ten numbers into the dial pad.

In his hotel room in New York, his mobile began to ring. He picked it up.

"Harry?" Eggsy said. Harry dreamily registered the echo of his unmistakable brogue through the tinny receiver.

White-faced, Harry turned in Kentucky. "How is this possible?" he whispered.

"I don't know, and I don't care," Eggsy replied brusquely. "All I give a fuck about is that you're alive and I can do something about it. I'm going to visit you again tomorrow. I'm going to to give you the numbers to a bank account. You're going to request a debit card. And then, Harry, you're going to take a damn shower."

 

———

 

Eggsy was far less unaffected than he seemed. That night, he wept himself to sleep, clutching his phone desperately, daring the call history to change before his eyes.

When he finally dropped off, he thought he felt a hand gently stroking his forehead.

 

———

 

"I thought I was going mad," Harry confessed.

Eggsy smiled at that. "I was absolutely certain I was going mad."

"What made you change your mind?"

Eggsy didn't answer. "I booked you an Airbnb," he said instead. "Two blocks from here. Key's under the doormat. Come on, let's go."

Harry walked stiffly and uncertainly next to Eggsy. "Where are you right now?"

"On a plane back to England," Eggsy replied tersely.

"Why didn't you tell Merlin about me?"

Eggsy answered simply, "If you'd wanted to return to Kingsmen, you would've called Merlin first thing the second you got out of that hospital. You didn't."

Harry was silent, fighting to acknowledge the truth.

"Do you ever want to come back?" Eggsy asked bluntly.

Harry couldn't meet his eye. "I— I don't know, Eggsy."

Eggsy shrugged. "Then it's none of Merlin's damn business. "

Harry made an inarticulate noise. "How can you be so— so calm about this?"

Eggsy looked away, looked back. "Harry, I can see what you see. I hear what you hear. And— I feel what you feel. So I get it. I really do. 'Sides, you gave _me_ a new life. The least I could do is return the favour."

Harry, for the second time in so many minutes, didn't know what to say.

Eggsy continued in a businesslike manner, "The debit card's arriving at the Airbnb in three days, so stay there, eat their food, watch their Netflix, learn to be a fucking human again. I can't get you a fake passport for another week, though. After that — well, the world's your oyster. Feel free to do as you please."

Harry smiled rather wanly. "Since when did you get so frighteningly efficient?" he half-wondered.

"I learned from the best," Eggsy said.

 

———

 

The next time he caught up with Harry, he was in the passenger seat of a car, going eighty miles an hour down an interstate highway.

"A Mustang," Eggsy said appreciatively. "Nice."

Harry, by dint of much effort, did not swerve all over the road. His knuckles did whiten visibly on the steering wheel, however.

"Where are we?" Eggsy said, pressing his nose to the window.

"You don't know?"

"I can sense your feelings, Harry, I can't read your bloody mind."

"You can read a road sign."

"Can't," Eggsy deadpanned. "They're written in American, some strange colonial pidgin. Plus, they're on the wrong side of the road."

Harry snorted. "Cheeky fuck. We're in Wyoming."

"Where're you headed?" Eggsy asked curiously.

"Yellowstone National Park. I'm doing a continental tour," Harry added.

Eggsy brightened up visibly. "I love parks. Can I come with?"

Harry looked over at last, noting the boy's arm wrapped in a sling. "Medical?" he asked.

Eggsy nodded glumly. "Two weeks." Harry had a momentary vision of the blindingly sterile walls and scrubbed equipment.

Harry reached over and patted his leg. "I'd love to have you."

Eggsy looked thrilled.

 

———

 

"Do you ever wonder exactly how this works?" Harry asked one night, in a motel room near Mount Rainier.

"Sure," Eggsy said, idly counting the cracks on the ceiling. He was simultaneously lying on the motel bed and on his bunk at Kingsmen HQ. If Harry wanted to (he did not often want to), he could have made himself present there instead.

"Try eating this breakfast bar," Harry proffered the item.

Eggsy rolled over and wrinkled his nose. "Ugh, granola."

" _Eggsy_ ," Harry said threateningly. "It's an experiment."

Eggsy made a face and bit into the so-called food. "I can taste it," he said. This wasn't news to either of them.

"So can I," said Harry, mildly surprised. This was.

Eggsy stopped mid-chew. "What happens if I—?" he disappeared abruptly.

Harry looked down to see the wrapper in his hand, and felt granola in his mouth. He almost dropped the bar entirely.

Eggsy reappeared, looking breathless and inquiring.

"So it's really me doing it," Harry said wonderingly. "It's as if you're— possessing me."

Eggsy looked at him. "Does that frighten you?"

"No," Harry answered truthfully.

"Me either."

Both men were quiet for a while, before Harry couldn't help asking another question.

"Do you ever wonder _why_ this happened?"

"I don't care," Eggsy answered simply. "I'm just grateful you're here."

Harry felt his face unaccountably flushing.

"Besides," Eggsy added, "this is a pretty sweet deal, you get me? I get to see the world totally free, no jet lag or food poisoning. You hafta do all the hard work."

Harry threw a pillow at him. It bounced off the wall harmlessly.

 

———

 

Eggsy was next to him as he paddled aimlessly around Crater Lake. Eggsy was with him, laughing, when he got lost in Yosemite. Eggsy was by his side as he hiked down into the Grand Canyon, but was far more distracted then, due to having to simultaneously tail a mark in Berlin.

For a few blessed weeks, Harry allowed himself to forget, to submerge, to take for granted that sweet smile, that cocked head and grinning expression that managed to somehow be always excited, always surprising, always patient.

Until the day a searing pain blossomed like fire in his gut. Another spasm of pain gripped his temple. Gasping, he wrenched on the steering wheel, pulling onto the shoulder of I-40 with a screech.

"Eggsy, what the hell?" he managed.

There was no response. Gritting his teeth, he went to Eggsy.

 

———

 

He was kneeling on the floor, vomiting and clutching at a profusely bleeding gash in his abdomen.

"Eggsy," Harry said.

Eggsy looked up, his eyes widening in fear. "You shouldn't be here, Harry," he hissed.

"Who the fuck you talkin' to?" A foot kicked him solidly in the ribs, sending Eggsy sprawling. Harry winced.

A heavyset man in a cheap suit was circling Eggsy's heaving body, his eyes gleaming with malice and pleasure. "I asked you a fuckin' question, pinprick."

Harry squatted next to Eggsy, speaking lowly and urgently. "Eggsy. This man is going to kick you again. When he does, grab his foot and tip upwards. He has a knife strapped to his left ankle. When he's on the ground, take it from him and use it against him. Be warned, he looks like he's trained in Krav Maga. Defend your throat and solar plexus."

Eggsy looked at Harry, his eyes wet with pain and his lips red with blood. With some difficulty, he nodded affirmation.

"I fuckin' said—" the foot arced towards him again. Eggsy grabbed it with both hands.

 

———

 

Harry drove to the nearest motel. A roach scuttled away as he opened his room door. He didn't care.

He watched expressionlessly as a doctor carefully sewed up Eggsy's stomach. Nurses, and even Merlin, once, moved around him and through him in an all-too-familiar hospital room.

"I took you for granted," he told the unmoving boy. "Never again."

 

———

 

When Eggsy awoke, he seemed delighted to find Harry in Hong Kong. "Why China?" he asked curiously. Harry tried to ignore IV drip attached to his wrist and the bandages wrapped around his head.

"I wanted a change. I thought you might like it," he added diffidently.

Eggsy beamed. "Can we see Taipei 101?"

"Anything," Harry promised.

 

———

 

Eggsy was far less pleased to see him on his next mission.

"Harry," he said, his face pinching like he'd just eaten granola, "what are you doing here?"

"Just visiting," Harry answered flippantly.

"Bollocks. You hardly ever visit me," Eggsy stated without a trace of rancour. Nevertheless, Harry felt his heart twist at hearing the bare truth.

"Maybe it's about time I did, then. There's a patrol due in three minutes, by the way."

"Harry," Eggsy said unhappily, "you don't have to do this."

"I know I don't have to," Harry said. "I want to."

 

———

 

They fell into an uneasy dance, a holding pattern of sorts. Harry travelled the world with Eggsy by his side. Eggsy spied on governments and occasionally undermined crime with Harry at his back. It was familiar, it was intimate, it had camaraderie — and yet they both knew they were holding back.

One might think it impossible for two telepathically connected individuals to hide something from one another. Miraculously, Eggsy and Harry still managed it.

Eggsy finally had the balls to face the elephant in the room as he woke up, lonely and hungover, after returning from a particularly frustrating mission. They had run the gamut of shared experiences — fear, pain, anger, joy, discovery, confusion, despair, laughter, wonder, mirth. But there was still one facet of himself he had been loath to share.

To put it bluntly: he hadn't had sex in ages. He hadn't even jerked himself off in what felt like years. He'd been too busy alternatively going mad, helping Harry, or getting himself almost killed.

He wondered abstractly if Harry had had the time, and he just hadn't noticed.

The thought was a insidious and beguiling one. Eggsy flushed a dark red as the recollection of Harry, stripping and buck naked, rose unbidden before his eyes. He checked his phone hurriedly. It was six in the morning in London, meaning it was one AM in Panama, the last place he'd been to with Harry. Harry should be safely asleep— if he could just—

Giving in to temptation, Eggsy thrust a hand down his pants and stroked. The effect was both electric and terrifying. His hips rose helplessly in the air. He bit down hard on his lip, moaning quietly, "H— Harry—"

"Yes?"

Eggsy's eyes slammed open in horror. "Oh, fuck, I'm sorry," he babbled, yanking the sheets over his shameful erection, looking everywhere but at Harry. "I'm so fuckin' sorry, Harry, I thought you were sleeping—"

Harry was looking at Eggsy with an unreadable expression. "I'm in New Zealand," he clarified. "In a bar, actually."

"Shit, I—"

"And even if I wasn't," Harry continued serenely, "I can assure you I would have woken up immediately."

"Harry," Eggsy began futilely, and stopped.

"Eggsy," Harry replied, still holding his gaze with an inscrutable look on his face.

"Sorry," Eggsy whispered.

Harry waited patiently as Eggsy squirmed. "Do you know what I'm doing right now?" he asked casually.

Eggsy stopped, bewildered. "What?"

"I'm walking to the bar's bathroom," Harry said, still in the same conversational tone. "My God, there's a lot of graffiti in here. I've chosen the last stall. And now," he leaned forward, his breath ghosting on Eggsy's neck, "I'm going to wank myself off in a public bathroom, thinking of you lying here, half-naked and wanton and utterly gorgeous."

Eggsy gaped.

"What were you thinking of?" Harry murmured, running a finger along Eggsy's jaw.

The boy shuddered like trapped animal. "Y—you," his breath caught in his throat.

"Me," Harry repeated, his eyes darkening in pleasure.

"You— touching yourself," Eggsy said faintly, shutting his eyes. "You touching me."

A growl of mixed lust and frustration rose in Harry's throat. He tore the sheet from Eggsy's bed in one fluid motion, and was on top of him in another.

"And how would you like me to touch you?" Harry said softly, his mouth inches away. A curl of his hair brushed delicately against Eggsy's forehead.

Eggsy writhed helplessly, his eyes huge and liquid. "I— I don't know," he confessed.

"Like this?" Harry leaned back to allow his thumbs to circle Eggsy's nipples, alternating between gentle rubbing and light tugs. Eggsy groaned obscenely, fingers digging into the mattress.

"Or perhaps," Harry said, his voice low and rough, "you would prefer a more direct approach." His hands traced slow circles down Eggsy's body, dragging light trails down from his stomach to his inner thighs. Eggsy's cock jumped and twitched uncontrollably, already slick and dripping with pre-come.

"Harry," Eggsy begged with wild abandon, "please—"

"Yes," Harry breathed. He gripped Eggsy's cock and hungrily surged forward to envelop his mouth in a kiss. Eggsy moaned filthily and bucked into his grasp.

"Fuck," he gasped. "Harry— I'm not gonna last long—"

"Good," Harry said, biting Eggsy's bottom lip and pumping faster.

"Yes, yes, fuck, Harry, fuck—" Eggsy flung his head back and shouted incoherently.

In a bathroom stall in New Zealand, Harry's knees almost buckled as thick spurts of come shot into the toilet bowl below him. He had to blink the stars in his vision away before he felt capable of zipping up, flushing, and rejoining civilization.

As he exited his stall, another inhabitant was eyeing him with evident disfavour. "Fuckin' pervert," the stranger mumbled.

"Fuck off," Harry said, completely unperturbed.

 

———

 

Their last remaining wall had crumbled utterly. Harry ordered and shipped a dildo to Eggsy's house just to see the expression on his face when it arrived.

Later that night, he simultaneously fucked Eggsy and taught Eggsy how to fuck himself with it, drinking in Eggsy's wide eyes and trembling lips as Harry slid in another well-lubed finger.

"Is this good?" he murmured.

"Y—yes," Eggsy stuttered, his flush creeping down his chest.

"I'm going to insert the toy, then," Harry said in a low, conversational voice. "It's about my size, you know."

Eggsy whimpered, closing his eyes.

 

———

 

When Harry came to the next morning, he found he'd rutted a indelible stain into the hotel mattress. Sighing, he dialled room service and reached for his wallet.

 

———

 

"Harry," Eggsy had asked once, his body a quivering wreck, "what do you think this would feel like — for real?"

"This _is_ real," Harry said, pressing kisses down Eggsy stomach.

His breath hitched. "You know what I mean."

Harry hesitated fractionally. "I think it might kill me," he said, before swallowing Eggsy in his mouth.

Eggsy cried out, rocking violently. He didn't bring it up again.

 

———

 

Few nights would pass where they didn't collapse, slick with sweat and come, into each others' arms. Even Roxy had started to raise her eyebrows and make oblique comments as Eggsy strolled into debriefs looking freshly fucked with a dazed smile on his face.

It was perfect, it was terrifying, it was forever, it was finite.

And then Eggsy was caught on a mission in Moscow.

 

———

 

The smell of scorching flesh drifted towards Eggsy's nose. He retched violently, but there was nothing to throw up.

"Come now, dear," said a voice, honeyed and persuasive, for all the world as if it weren't laying a red hot poker along Eggsy's back, "it's been three days. Surely you can see the futility of not giving us what we need. It's such a small thing, after all. We only want to know who sent you."

Eggsy tried to spit, but didn't have enough saliva.

"Shove it where the sun don't shine," he snarled instead.

"What an excellent idea," the voice said approvingly, picking up the poker again.

Eggsy fought back a scream. His chains jangled as he tried to strain against them.

"Or, on second thought," the poker looked thoughtful, "perhaps you can tell us who Harry Hart is."

Eggsy stiffened.

"You say his name, in your sleep," the poker said carelessly.

"Harry Hart," Eggsy growled, low and feral, "is dead."

He thought he saw Harry out of the corner of his eye, a hand stretched out helplessly towards him. He shook his head in a furious rejection, trying his best to block the connection. He would die before he let Harry feel the full brunt of his pain, he would die trying to shield him. He couldn't stop the link completely, however, and could feel, very distantly, Harry's anguish and grief. "Harry," Eggsy muttered brokenly, his control slipping. "I— I loved you."

"What a shame," the voice said, unconcerned. "I hoped we might be able to use him against you."

Eggsy laughed silently at this, his lips curling over bloodied teeth. "Fuck you," he tried to spit again. "You don't have the guts to kill me."

"A crude attempt at psychological manipulation," the voice sounded bored. "Don't worry, my dear. You have days yet before your death. And I assure you, it will be neither quick nor merciful."

The poker re-descended. Eggsy thrashed wildly.

 

———

 

On the fifth day, Eggsy knew that he was dying, of dehydration if nothing else. In many ways, he was elated. It was over, and he had not broken. He almost beyond all pain now.

He looked up for one last time, tears streaking down his face. As if on cue, Harry appeared, smiling gently in the distance. Harry in his beautiful bespoke suit, incongruously clean as he walked down the long, filthy hallway.

My final hallucination, Eggsy thought dazedly. It was exquisitely fitting. His body stretched in yearning and supplication. Take me away, he begged silently. Take me with you.

As if it had heard him, the figure drew nearer. Next to him, his tormentor made a strangled sound. Eggsy ignored it, fixated on the glowing silhouette of Harry. He ignored Harry raising his arm, gun in hand. He ignored his captor's head flinging back, a spray of blood appearing on the wall behind him. Nothing existed except for the fact that Harry had come to take him away from this world. Whether it was to Heaven or Hell mattered not in the slightest.

He wept freely as Harry scooped him up in his arms, carefully avoiding the burn welts, and carried him away without a word.

 

———

 

When Eggsy came to, it was not to a fluffy vista of clouds or panorama of fiery infernos as he might have expected. It was instead a view he had come to dread even more, the clinical white walls of Kingsmen Medical.

"God fucking damnit," he sighed. "Shoulda fucking known Hell would be this piece of shit fuckin' room."

"You're not dead," said a familiar voice, dryly amused.

Eggsy's head whipped around. "Merlin? Tough luck, bruv. I would've pegged you for Heaven, myself," he commiserated.

Merlin reached out as if to shake him, and thought better of it. "You're. Not. Fucking. Dead," he repeated, folding his arms.

Eggsy frowned at Merlin obstinately. "I saw—"

Merlin sighed and pressed his fingers to his forehead. "Oi, arsehole," he shouted over his shoulder, "get in here."

The door opened, and in walked Harry.

Eggsy stared. And stared, and stared some more.

"You," he started, then stopped.

"Me," Harry agreed, looking at him steadily.

Eggsy, almost of out reflex, visited.

He looked across the room at himself. His expression, seen from outside, was unfortunately comical. Next to him, Harry raised an eyebrow minutely.

"Holy fuck," he swore softly, and snapped back.

From his bed, he devoured the sight of Harry with shining eyes. A million words crowded to the tip of his tongue. _It's you, it's really you_ would have been a classic. More swearing would also have been entirely appropriate for the occasion. Instead, what emerged from his mouth was a weak, "I bet Merlin had a shit fit."

"Merlin had several shit fits," Merlin interjected, narrowing his eyes. "Merlin has a new prescription for high blood pressure thanks to you two absolute cunts."

"Sorry," Eggsy said, meekly. "In my defence, the sex is really good."

Merlin turned a particular apoplectic shade of red. "I need a drink," he snapped. "You two — no fucking until his wounds heal."

As he stomped away, Eggsy shot Harry an interrogative glance. "Did you tell him about—?" he asked in a low voice.

Harry came to his side, giving a short negative shake of the head.

Eggsy was silent for a moment. "So you're back in Kingsmen, then," he said at last.

"Yes," Harry said simply.

Eggsy looked up, fear and vulnerability written across his face. "Harry — are you sure?"

Harry sat down beside him. "I am more sure about this," he said firmly, taking Eggsy's hand, "than I've ever been in my entire life."

Eggsy could only look wonderingly at his fingers wrapped around Harry's.

"Retirement didn't really suit me, anyway," Harry whispered, leaning forward to plant a kiss on Eggsy's forehead.

Their skin tingled together, in tandem.

 


End file.
